


Where You Can't Get What You Want But You Can Get Me

by justasign



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M, Gender Dysphoria, Light Angst, Porn with Feelings, Trans Female Character, kind of ooc but there is a reason for it, or maybe heavy angst I have no gauge for this type of thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 00:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16587218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justasign/pseuds/justasign
Summary: Grell and Othello have somehow become friends but Grell has a knack for breaking things and Othello is too curious and blunt for his own good





	Where You Can't Get What You Want But You Can Get Me

**Author's Note:**

> So first things first: I interpret Grell as a trans woman and use she/her pronouns throughout the whole story. If this bothers you then you are free to not read this, I won't be offended. That being said, there is a fair bit of gender dyphoria and gender related self-loathing and if that's triggering for you, you might not want to read this. As someone who deals with dysphoria, I thought it was cathartic but that may not be the case for you so please read at your own discretion  
> Second, it is a little OOC on Grell's part, mainly because I feel that Grell could be a supremely interesting character but has kind of been made into a stereotype so this is a slightly different take on the character where the personality that we've seen on the show/in the manga is an act that she keeps up as a wall of sorts. No one can hate you if they don't really know you is the basic logic behind this  
> Lastly, this is my first time writing any sort of fanfiction but I really wanted a very specific type of story with these two so I hope you enjoy it
> 
> The title and chapter names are from On Melancholy Hill by Gorillaz

Grell didn't know how or why or even really when she and Othello's relationship had shifted but it had. It seemed simultaneously an abrupt development and a very slow drift into… whatever they were now. Confidants? Friends? Coworkers who sometimes went for drinks after a long day? All three maybe? Those things weren't mutually exclusive, were they? Grell didn't know. She wasn't experienced in these types of relationships, not in life and not in this cruel simulacrum that she was punished with.

Grell, contrary to popular belief, knew exactly how she came off. That persona was carefully crafted; it was intentional and expertly executed. She knew she was unlikeable, she couldn't control that, but she could control exactly why she was unlikeable. Grell had lived her life being rejected once people knew her for what she was and they treated her like a freak, like a monster, like some sort of deviant so she would beat them to the proverbial punch. Now she had the control. She would push them away before they could decide to do so and hurt her. 

But Othello was different. No matter how abrasive, aggressive, no matter how lewd and off-putting Grell tried to make herself, he was always civil. He listened to her, he remembered things she said off-hand and had even forgotten herself. He was a geek but he was kind to her and that was a foreign feeling. He even treated her like a lady, called her "Miss Sutcliff" and held doors open for her just as he would for any of the women in the Reaper Dispatch. Eventually, she began to speak to him more warmly and now here she was in his flat drinking wine on the sofa and talking. Here she was, laughing at his work anecdotes. Here she was, persona shed hours ago, removed as she crossed the threshold as easily as she had hung up her coat.  
At present, she was listening to Othello lament over a social faux pas that had ruined an attempt at a romantic advance.

"At this rate, I'll never court anyone," Othello sighed, a little overdramatically for comedic effect.

"I fear not, you're utterly hopeless, my dear," Grell chuckled lightly before taking a sip of wine. "But then again, I'm hardly one to comment on futile romantic pursuits." 

Both parties fell silent at that seemingly lighthearted statement. Othello shifted slightly in his seat, a subtle action that most wouldn't have noticed but Grell did. She felt a slight tightness in her throat. _Oh no, I've ruined it. I did something wrong, said something wrong and I've ruined the whole evening. Stupid, stupid, stupid -_

"May I ask you a personal question, Grell?" Othello asked, interrupting her silent self-deprecation.

"You may certainly ask, whether or not I answer is yet to be seen," Grell quipped, trying to keep the mood light.

"I just do not wish to make you feel uncomfortable with an inappropriate question," Othello had shifted once more on the sofa, turning to face Grell more directly. Grell let out a short laugh.

"My dear, the propriety of your question has never stopped you from asking it before!" Grell took a long sip from her glass of wine, steeling herself for whatever inquiry Othello was about to hurl at her. His eyes followed the movement and he leaned back a bit. He stared into the fireplace and then looked down into his own glass of wine, barely touched compared to Grell who was already on her third.

"Why do you find yourself attracted to men who will never love you?"

Grell flinched and pulled away as though she had been struck. The familiar feeling of anger and indignation coiled in her stomach. _Who does he think he is? Where does he get off speaking to her in this manner?_ She can feel the mask sliding back into place as that voice in her head tells her to scream, storm out of the apartment, break something, let the monster out and chase him away. He had gotten too close, she wasn't careful enough, and now he thought he could try to get to know her. That he knew anything about her. She didn't notice her white-knuckled grip on the wine glass until it was too late and it shattered in her hand, glass, wine, and blood raining on her and the sofa.

"Fuck!" Grell exclaimed as she quickly rose from her seat, dropping the remnants of the glass from her hand. Othello instinctually followed her, eyes wide in shock.

"Are you okay?! Let me see your hand-" Othello reached for her and she felt a flare of rage.

"No! This is your fault!" She yelled at him, pulling her injured hand close to her body and out of Othello's reach.

"My fault?" He looked baffled, his green eyes narrowing in a mixture of confusion and resentment.

"Yes, your fault! Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like we're friends? Like you get to know me because we have drinks sometimes?" Grell reached out with her non-injured hand and shoved him away from her. "You don't know me. You don't know anything about me. None of you know me. I made it that way, I'm in control and you have no right to pry and prod and poke at me like one of your little specimens to analyze and to pick apart to figure out what makes it tick!" Grell suddenly felt a pit of ice grow in her stomach, her chest gets tight, her eyes start to sting as she recoils once more.

"Was that all this was to you?" She said, as she struggled to keep her voice from shaking. "A chance to study the freak up close? To try and get inside my head and figure what the fuck is wrong with me? Was this just-" Grell waved her non-injured hand as she struggles to find the right words. "Analysis? Just data in a cruel experiment where you pretend to be the wretched creature's friend?"

Grell could feel the monster pacing behind the cage in her mind. It wanted to take control, to destroy, to rip, to shred and she wanted to let it. And why shouldn't she? Why shouldn't she destroy everything in her path? She turned her back to Othello, unable to stop tears from forming in her eyes. _Fuck, how fucking pathetic am I? Crying over something I should have expected, something I should have seen coming._

"Is that how you see yourself?" Othello said breaking the silence he had held during her outburst. "Do you really think that little of yourself?"

The monster was peering through bars of its prison, the one Grell carefully placed it behind when she was with Othello but with each new curl of fury, its locks were weakening. She could hear him approaching but she stayed still.

"I chose to spend time with you because in a world of people of who have died and literally deal in death, you are full of life. You are a force of nature and yes, I found you fascinating but there was more to it than that." He put his hand on her shoulder and Grell pulled away, still furious. There was a beat of silence, an eye in the storm of her anger where nothing happened.

Suddenly she was spun around, eye to eye with Othello, the shock of his unceremonious action freezing her in place. Another beat of silence. Then Othello surged up to press his lips to hers.

It had been so long since she’d been kissed, since she’d been touched with kindness at all. The kiss that Othello had pulled her into was delicate and chaste, closed lips pressing against hers so soft, as though she were made of porcelain. It was so sweet it made her heart break, tears falling down her face freely. _No no no no no no no no. This has to stop. This has to stop right now. You have to push him away. If you let this go any further, he's going to hurt you, he's going to hurt you because you're a monster._ Grell pulled away from the kiss and out of Othello's grasp, readying herself to end this once and for all.

"Oh, so that's it?" Her voice was ice and venom, low and dangerous. "You thought I was just some stupid little waif, haplessly throwing herself at cruel men because she was too dull to realize their true nature? Or maybe you thought yourself a white knight, to ride in and save me from my own self-destruction that I am too incompetent to recognize?" Othello took a step back, alarmed by an anger he wasn't expecting. She pushed further.

"Congratulations, Othello! You had me all figured out the whole time!" She let the sarcasm drip from her words like tar. "Maybe it's not that I chase after a certain type of man because I'm an idiot child who never learns and maybe it's just that I want a man who is actually adequate. Who's strong and capable and absolutely _nothing like you_."

Her words hung in the air, echoing around the living room, their malice thick as fog. She raised her chin defiance, satisfied with her viciousness. And then Othello raised his eyes from the ground, where they had been fixed during her tirade, and stared straight into hers.

"Wrong." His face was unreadable. "Try again."

Grell's cruel confidence crumbled in bewilderment. "What do you mean, 'wrong'?"

"Your answer to my earlier question. It was wrong. That is not why you choose to fawn over the men you do." Somehow despite his shorter stature, he seemed intimidating. "Try again."

Grell was at a loss for words. She didn't know what to say, and even if she knew what she didn't know how to say it. Othello saw her hollow stare and sighed softly. He reached for her hand and in her complete state of confoundment, she let him take it and lead her slowly to the water closet. He guided her to sit down on the edge of the bathtub while he kneeled in front of her and tended to her injured hand, carefully using tweezers to remove the glass still stuck in her palm. His face was no longer unreadable, just focused on his task which he performed with a diligence Grell had only ever seen him display at work. She didn't know if she should break the silence between them, if she wanted to disturb this moment of strange calm despite the storm that had brewed in the living room. Instead, she gazed over his shoulder at her reflection in the mirror.

God, she looked like a mess. Her face was streaked with dried tears and makeup, her white work shirt was stained red with the wine that was drying uncomfortably on her skin, her lip paint had smudged from when Othello had kissed her earlier. The worst part was she didn't think she looked like a distraught woman in this grotesque tableau she created; all she could see was an unhinged man. It was in these moments that the ugly words everyone had told her began to sink in, to swim around in her mind like rancorous piranhas tearing her self-image to shreds. She knew who she was, she had known she wasn't a man since she was 17 and had started her career in acting as a _travesti_. The moment she had seen herself as a woman and been treated as such she knew this truth about herself and felt simultaneously blessed and cursed. She wasn't particularly masculine in her appearance but in moments like this, all she could see was the breadth of her shoulders, the square of her jaw, the thickness of her neck with that damned Adam's apple that she couldn't hide. They exaggerated themselves to the point of parody and she wanted to look away but she couldn't. She stared and obsessed over her deridable presentation as hurtful, painful thoughts floated through her head.

She had no idea how long she was trapped in her self-loathing when she felt a tap on her arm. Grell tore her eyes away from the mirror to look at Othello, who gestured to her now bandaged hand.

"There, good as new," Othello said as he gave her a warm smile that made her heart ache. Then, maintaining the eye contact he made with her, he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a feather-light kiss to the back of her fingers.

Grell instinctually pulled her hand away, running her other hand through her hair in a combination of nerves and exasperation with his persistence. However, Othello seemed to be feeling particularly bold tonight, Grell would have assumed liquid courage but he had barely touched his wine. Othello placed his hands on either side of Grell's face and gently turned her towards him.

"Why won't you let yourself be loved?" He asked softly, his face sadly looking up into hers.

Grell simply closed her eyes. Othello wasn't the type to drop a subject once he felt he was gaining ground. So she gave in.

"The ones who love you are the ones who can hurt you the most." She kept her eyes firmly closed, unable to bear whatever expression Othello was wearing. "I pursue men who I know will never love me because then it's impossible for me to be surprised or disappointed or betrayed. They can hurt me physically as much as they like, I received worse when I was a human, but they can never truly hurt me emotionally because I expect nothing from them and that is exactly what I derive."

Grell's eyes were still closed but she felt Othello's thumbs lightly rub her cheekbones. The tenderness with which he handled her was too much and not enough. She turned her face just enough to lightly kiss his left palm and remove his hands from her face. After a few moments, she felt him rise. She still refused to open her eyes. If her eyes were closed she didn't have to face the situation. Grell heard the sound of running water and after another few moments felt Othello remove her spectacles, letting them hang from her neck on their chain, and press a cool, damp towel lightly against her eye and then the other. She felt Othello slowly and carefully remove her false eyelashes and she started to protest but she was silenced by a soft kiss to each of her eyes.

"Let me take care of you," he whispered against her temple and placed another soft kiss.

And she did. She let him slowly remove her ruined makeup and place light kisses as he did so. When he reached her lips he took great care, trying not be rough with the delicate skin and placed a kiss on one corner of her mouth, and then the other. And then he placed another chaste, delicate kiss on her lips, fully.

"My god, you're so beautiful."

Grell wanted to laugh ruefully. She was beautiful in this state? Completely ruined and laid emotionally bare? Before she could make a barbed statement, she felt Othello lean in again but instead of kissing her again, he just embraced her firmly, burying his face in her neck. She raised her arms from her sides and let herself hold him. Of all the things she had ever done in both life and this strange hereafter, this felt the most intimate. They stayed like this for what felt like hours until she heard Othello's muffled voice say "You smell like wine."  
Grell laughed at that. "Well you smell like licorice so I guess we're both just going to suffer."   
She felt Othello smile in the crook of her neck and he gently placed a kiss there. She took in a sharp breath at the sensation and Othello slowly pulled away from the hug as she opened her eyes and put her spectacles back on.

"Your clothes are ruined," he said, looking over her as those he was making an assessment. "You should have a bath and then I'll wash your clothes for you, and see what I can do for the wine stain."

Grell agreed. The dried wine on her torso had created a truly unpleasant sensation and she wouldn't turn down a bath. She made a move to rise and go behind the privacy screen but Othello stopped her.

"Let me?" His fingers hovered over the top button of her shirt.

Her mind was racing, weighing all her options. Othello wasn't the type to forcibly undress her if she decided she didn't want him to and even if he did, she could easily overpower him if the situation turned physical. The question was ultimately whether or not she _wanted_ him to undress her, to see her body. She thought about the love he had lavished on her face as he removed her makeup, how loved she had felt and for the first time in her existence she had felt delicate, like something precious. She imagined what he might do to her body. She nodded.   
Othello's fingers got to work as he once again dropped to his knees in front of her. The sight of that alone began to stir something inside her. He graced the exposed skin with more light kisses, trailing down her chest to her stomach. Reaching up, he slid her shirt off her shoulders and placed it off to the side. Her chest was bare and she felt self-conscious, pressing her arms together to hide her smooth chest. Othello nudged her arms apart, looking deeply into her eyes before he put his mouth on her nipple. He licked and lightly sucked, occasionally grazing his teeth over it. Grell moaned quietly, one of her hands gripping at Othello's messy brown hair. He then moved his mouth to her other nipple, giving it the same attention. Grell felt herself growing hard in her trousers and felt a familiar, though in this case unwarranted, panic. He knew her, despite her best efforts, and he still made the conscious effort to pursue, to pursue this. Othello ran his hands up and down her sides, and then his hands moved to explore the expanse of her back, then her chest, taking a moment there to lightly rub her nipples again and she gasped. Finally, his hands ran down her shoulders, down her arms, where they took her hands in his and pressed them to his lips for a kiss. He glanced at her trousers, and she felt a twinge of disgust at the knowledge that he could see a bulge there. Othello placed his fingers on the button to her trousers and looked to her for consent before continuing on. She swallowed her dysphoria and gave him another nod.

He unbuttoned her pants and motioned for her lift her hips so he could remove them completely. Grell obliged, heart racing with a mixture of arousal and anxiety. Othello placed a kiss on her inner thigh, running his hands up and down her legs like he had done with her upper body, as though he wanted to touch every inch of her and commit it to memory.

"You can tell me to stop at any point and I will," Othello was hovering above the laces to her undergarments, hands on her thighs. She pulled him up to give a hard kiss, completely unlike the chaste kisses he had given her. She poured all her passion into the kiss, wanting him to feel how much she wanted him, how loved he had made her feel. Her tongue pressed into his mouth and he moaned, wrapping his arms tightly around her and snaking one hand into her hair. She nipped at Othello's bottom lip and he gasped sharply and tightened his hand in her hair, tugging slightly. She let out a high-pitched moan and Othello widened his eyes and started to apologize but she cut him off.

"Fuck, do that again," she said, giving him a half-lidded stare, her shiny reddened lips parting as she panted lightly. Othello nodded and tugged at her hair again and she moaned even louder, wrapping her leg around Othello to pull him even closer to her. Grell, in spite of her still lingering dysphoria, rolled her hips against him as she kissed and sucked marks down his neck.

"Fuck, Othello, you feel so good. It's been so long since I've had anyone." Her voice was breathy in his ear and he groaned.

"Please," Othello begged. "Let me suck you. I want to taste you so much. I've thought about you like this for so long, please just let me."

The heat that coiled in Grell's stomach was almost too much and she whimpered at the thought that he had felt like this about her for a while.

"Yes, please, do it." She released him and he gave her one last kiss before he unlaced her underwear and pulled them down her legs, dropping them on the tile.

The one positive thing she could say is at least her cock wasn't particularly big so it was fairly easy to hide when she wanted to. Studying Othello's reaction closely, he didn't seem at all deterred by seeing her penis. In fact, he looked at her erection with almost a form of reverence. He lightly ran his fingers up and down the shaft, causing Grell to shiver and grip the edge of the tub she was seated on. Othello seemed pleased with her reaction to teasing so he licked a broad stripe up the underside from the base to the head, tasting a bead of pre-come that had formed at the tip, and then pulled away. When he leaned in again, instead of licking her again or taking her in his mouth, he lightly blew on the wet strip of skin causing Grell to gasp and then groan with annoyance. Othello chuckled at this and took pity on her, leaning forward again to place a kiss to the head of her cock and then swallowing her down.

Grell, surprisingly, wasn't normally loud during sex. In fact, most times she was almost meditative, closing her eyes and silently processing what her body was experiencing, trying to shut out the dysphoria. This was not like those other times. Grell cried out in pleasure when Othello took all of her into his mouth, using his tongue to stimulate the underside. Pulling off, he sucked on her foreskin making Grell slap her hand the edge of the tub and her other hand fly to grip his Othello's hair. Othello sucked her down again, slowly until the head of her cock touch the back of his throat and now she was moaning very loudly, much louder than she usually did. Othello continued to suck her off, swallowing her down hungrily and enthusiastically. It wasn't long before Grell felt herself approaching climax.

"Othello, dearest, I'm going to come," she said gripping Othello's hair even tighter and pulling a moan from the man that vibrated around her. She shuddered at that but held herself back, her self-control hanging by a thread.

"Then come," Othello answered before returning to his task with vigor.

At that, Grell felt her release crash over her like a wave, her back arching as moans fall from her mouth uncontrollably. Othello swallowed down her come and looked up at her, his eyes completely black with want. He kissed her again, forcefully this time, holding her face in his hands. Her moans filled his mouth as she tasted herself on his tongue. They kissed for a while, deeply and affectionately until finally, Othello broke it off.

"I should get your bath ready for you." Othello rose and Grell was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was completely naked and Othello was still fully clothed. Then another realization hit her.

"But you haven't come yet," Grell reached out for his wrist as he started to walk away to get the hot water ready. He looked back at her and smiled.

"Don't worry about me, I'm taking care of you right now," Othello said, tone soft and light.

Grell looked up at him, perplexity written on her face at this particular turn of events. She had never been in _this_ specific situation before, a sexual partner bringing her to orgasm and neglecting their own arousal. For the most part, it was usually the inverse, her partners taking their pleasure and then leaving her to tend to herself. Tonight was apparently a night for Grell to feel completely adrift, trying to navigate circumstances with which she had no experience.

Othello smiled at her and placed a kiss to the top of her head before walking to a large cabinet and grabbing a bath towel, which he draped over Grell's shoulders before leaving the room, presumably to get warm water for the bath. The door shut with a soft click, leaving Grell alone with her thoughts again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed my weird rambly writing!


End file.
